


Wounded

by KTomatoe



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bonding, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Love Triangles, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTomatoe/pseuds/KTomatoe
Summary: Sakura has trouble coming to terms with the direction her life is going when she is forced into the company of Uchiha Itachi who needs his eyes fixed in order to resume his own way of life. Their two paths converge and then diverge, creating an attachment that Sakura would have never expected. ItaSaku.





	1. House Call

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto!**

**A/N:**  This story probably takes place during the Blank Period if it was non-mass. It doesn't follow what actually happened in the show/manga all that well, I'm just writing what I think best fits with the story. That being said, enjoy!

* * *

**Two years post-war. Non-Mass.**

Sakura flushed the bathroom toilet and went to the sink to wash up before returning to the hospital floor. She pumped some soap into her hands and scrubbed it into her skin, purposefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror above.

_Miss Sakura! I drew you a picture!_

She clenched her jaw, scrubbing the milky lather harder into her skin.

The little girl's mother beamed happily as she handed her a beautifully scribbled drawing that consisted of three stick figures holding hands in a field of flowers. Three different people. Three distinct hair colors. Naruto with his characteristic whiskers was right in the middle, her and Sasuke positioned on their respective sides.

_It's very beautiful, Yuka! I love Sasuke-kun's spiky hair!_

That carefree smile was still imprinted in her mind over a month later. How it had quivered, pressing innocently into a frown as she was read her diagnosis.

She turned the water off, lingering there with her hand on the knob, making no attempt to fix her hair as it fell over her face.

For the past few weeks, she'd been trying her best to steer clear of the inpatient unit, instead spending most of her time in and out of the lab and research departments where she could veil her insecurities in the privacy of an empty chamber surrounded by nothing but test strips and petri dishes. Tsunade advised her not to get too comfortable with it; her skills were obviously needed in the more public parts of the hospital, but she didn't see too much harm in it given it was only for a short period of time.

Sakura hadn't pressed the subject much after that. She enjoyed interacting with patients, being a part of their before and after, even healing her own comrades whenever they returned exhausted and dizzy from strenuous missions. So much time had passed since she'd seen battle that this had become her new reality, but at the end of the day, there was just no substitute for the cold comfort of the lab. At least, not in her current state of mind.

"Sakura-chan, do you have a minute?"

Sakura had been bent over one of the tables, a pair of blood cultures in one hand and a pen in the other, signing labels to stick on them. She hopped a bit in surprise, turning to find one of her coworkers leaning over by the door.

"Risa-chan?"

While she was used to seeing her downstairs in inpatient, sometimes the two of them went out for drinks after work. Sakura usually enjoyed herself after the effects of a few beers, but it had been several months since they'd last gone.

"What's wrong?" she said without thinking, her worried expression spreading from Risa's face to the cultures in her hand as she remembered to keep shaking them, hoping they hadn't already started to congeal.

A look of surprise came over Risa's face, settling into a sheepish laugh. "Wow, you caught me," she said defeatedly. "I didn't think it looked that obvious."

Sakura tilted her head, releasing a light chuckle of her own. Maybe she should have been a little less vocal about it. "Just a little," she replied, bagging up the vials and sealing it closed. "Believe me, it happens to the best of us. Is there something wrong?"

"As much as I would like to say no," she trailed off. Sakura kept her eyes on her as she spoke, breaking eye contact only when she reached the opposite corner of the room where the air tube was to send off the samples. "Yesterday, I received a house call from Uchiha Fugaku. I feel responsible for following through with it, but if I'm honest, I don't think that what they're asking for is within my scope of expertise."

At that moment, she was thankful that her back had been turned as it concealed the look of distress that consumed her face when she heard the word 'Uchiha'.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it for the entire day."

She released her finger from the button, sending the bag of cultures up the pipe that led to the testing center, her heavy gaze revealing an intense desire to follow it through the ceiling and dismiss herself from the conversation.

"Sakura-chan?"

Ever since team seven had returned from the war, her name had become synonymous with Naruto and Sasuke - bound to them like cement. It came with it's own ups and downs, but Sakura enjoyed spending time with them as she always had when they were children. The differences between them sort of just crept into frame at some point. Naturally, they were bound to have separate adventures going forward. Everyone around them were getting married and starting families of their own, including Ino who had vowed she wouldn't become a housewife until at least thirty-five. That obviously didn't happen.

Naruto began training immediately to become the next hokage, much to Kakashi's relief. Sakura always knew he'd make it there at some point. If it wasn't for that she wasn't sure Sasuke would have ended up leaving the village again, but those two lived to be on opposite ends of the spectrum, which meant that as long as Naruto stayed, he was destined to find his purpose somewhere far away.

Looking back, she should have known it was a waste of time to wait on him. Nowadays she couldn't decide whether it tortured her more to see him gone or have him here…

"Have you talked to Tsunade-sama about this?" she asked. It was her turn to attempt to mask her feelings.. "It sounds like you might have to have someone else take the assignment."

The room fell eerily silent, dense with some invisible emotion.

Part of her didn't even want to know what the details of the assignment were. If she could maneuver through the rest of her life without seeing another Uchiha, she'd probably be much healthier herself.

"I..did-"

"She'll do it."

Behind the door panel, a pair of heels clacked their way to the doorway as Tsunade revealed herself. The look on her face could only be described as 'perturbed'. Sakura knew it very well since like now, she was often on the receiving end of it.

"My office," she said, only stopping long enough to shoot her a glare. "Now."

.

.

.

"Shut the door behind you, Sakura."

Tsunade had made it a point not to answer any of her questions until they made it up the stairs and into her office on the leftmost wing of the hospital. Sakura stared at the piece of paper in her hand as they walked, hoping to get an idea of what this was all about. It looked familiar, but she wasn't able to make out exactly what it said until the door clicked closed, and it was violently slapped onto the face of the desk.

"What is this?" Tsunade shoved her finger on it. "Some kind of joke?"

Sakura's eyes fell on it, instantly coming to recognize the delicate lines composed of her own handwriting, the feelings she had while writing it rushing back to her with force.

"That was two weeks ago," she said.

"And that changes what?" The hinge of her chair squeaked as she dropped into it, crossing her legs. "After all the medical training we've done. All the fighting. Is that what you really want? To stay in the lab with the students and new grads?"

Sakura couldn't look at it anymore, cutting her gaze towards the tile flooring that matched the rest of the building's interior. If she had an answer to that question she would have just said it, but she couldn't help the bitter taste of confliction at her tongue, impairing her ability to make a decision.

Unfortunately, she didn't need to. The hesitation was itself an answer; It made her want to puke.

Tsunade sighed heavily. "I taught you to be stronger than this.. You act as if you've never seen death or suffering first hand before when you're one of the few people left in this building that has! How many years did it take you to master the Hundred Seals?!"

"Shishou,"

"And if it's Sasuke again-" She started to say something, but decided not to finish the sentence. "You need to pick yourself up, Sakura. You've been dragged through much dirtier mud and you know it."

"The last thing I wanted to do was disrespect you and the time we spent together.." Tsunade was no longer looking at her. She had taken a large red 'declined' stamp and began marking the whole page with it.

Sakura let out a gentle sigh of her own. It had been a while since she'd mustered the balls to admit these things to herself. "I guess I did let it get to me, more than I thought," she said. "When he came back."

She threw her arms in the air, letting them fall back down as if they were dead. "And now he's gone again. And Naruto's gone too.." Shaking her head, she pinned her gaze on one of the windows.

"It feels like I'm going nowhere with my life."

"And at what point are you actually going to start living for yourself?" Tsunade seemed to have cooled off well enough to carry on with her work. In fact, she seemed pretty satisfied with the answer she got. Or was it just the fact that she got to deny the hell out of Sakura's transfer request?

She finished her signature at the bottom of another document that she slid towards Sakura alongside the first. "First thing - For the record, I wasn't going to allow you to transfer in the first place. Ask again, and I'll fire you."

Sakura softened, her lips curving into a small smile.  _As if she should've expected anything less in the first place_ _..._

"I'll try," she teased, earning a low glare in return.

"Second - I'm giving you this signed order to take with you to the Uchiha compound. Tell Itachi that the one his father requested is not skilled enough to use the techniques required to fix his eyes. I mean, that part is pretty self-explanatory. Just do the job - "

"Shishou!"

The instant they locked eyes, Sakura could tell that her next words might be her last. If she wasn't careful, Tsunade was bound to lose her composure again, and then she might actually be out of the only job she knew how to do.. Not really, but there was a devilish glint in Tsunade's eyes that screamed 'please, try something'. Her fists probably still itched from Jiraiya being gone for the past few months.

"I - Aren't there others that can do the job just as well? I do have other projects I'm working on right now, and the others need the experience anyway."

"No, Sakura," she said seriously. "There's no one else I trust with this job other than you. Your projects can wait a few weeks."

"What if I -"

"10 AM tomorrow. Now take the paper and leave before I kick you out myself."

.

.

.

The rain came down in droves the entire night, and at around eleven o'clock, Sakura realized that if she didn't take a sleeping pill she wasn't going to sleep at all, which would inevitably end up impairing her work in some way the next morning. The pills had been her saving grace over the past few months. Even though she knew at some point she'd have to stop taking them, tonight was probably not the night to start. Fugaku was even more no-nonsense than Tsunade was as a former Hokage and that's saying a lot.

As for Itachi, she didn't know what to expect from him. He was Sasuke's older brother, he was an ANBU officer, and he must have helped in the war in some way. She'd only met him twice in her entire life and they weren't rememberable at all. Perhaps that was a good thing when she really thought about it. She'd had enough of Uchihas and their stubborn arrogance.

 _If you've met one, you've met them all._  Someone told her that once, but she couldn't remember who..

At around midnight the sleeping pills finally began to take effect, eyelids drooping heavily over her irises despite her will to stay awake. She wanted to think and prepare more and continue to watch the rain splash itself over the rails of her balcony.

It wasn't enough to keep her conscious. Within minutes, she was fast asleep under a mountain of blankets that she would probably end up kicking off of her at some point during the night, the rain only starting to subside in the wee hours of the morning as the sun slowly popped its head over the distant treeline.

It was bound to be an interesting day...


	2. Terminal

**Disclaimer: None of us own Naruto, okay?! All we want to do is force certain characters together and make them kiss!**

**A/N:** The chapters will continue not corresponding with the end of the series, lol. Some people will be alive that are dead in canon (:cough: oneofthemaincharacters) and vise versa if it comes to that I guess (I'm evil). I hope it still makes at least a bit of sense to you anyway. Also I'm sorry if the plot is coming across as slow. It's definitely intentional, but I'm in this for the long haul. Let's all be emotionally invested together! lmao :dead:

* * *

"Just eggs," Sakura motioned, sliding into the empty stool next to the Rokudaime. "Thank you."

"Coming right up!"

Kakashi looked mildly interested, following her movements with his available eye. The natural droop of it seemed more prominent this morning, probably exacerbated by an accumulation of sleepless nights and boring days spent without the company of his porn collection (which had been seized by none other than her loving shishou).

"Hokage-sama," she tipped her head in recognition, fully aware of his distaste for the shiny new title. "Do you usually like to eat ramen before eleven o'clock?"

"Good morning, Sakura-chan," he said, clearly faking the crease of a smile beneath his mask. The blatant sarcasm made her press her lips tight in a chuckle. "There's no such thing as breakfast anymore. You of all people should understand that."

She hadn't expected him to be sitting there at this time of day. Actually, Ichiraku was still an hour away from opening when he appeared, claiming he was starving and had forgotten all about the restaurant hours. It was hard to tell the hokage 'no' for anything, especially when it was Kakashi standing there, the most intensely pitiable look on his face from years of experience selling excuses.

Sakura could tell that they hadn't been open long. One bowl of ramen wasn't quite enough to create the pungent smell of roasted barbeque pork that one could always smell from several meters away. Where there were usually thick clouds of steam billowing from the roof and the sting of searing vegetables sizzling underneath a covered frying pan, the air was now clear and dewy, droplets of rain from last night coating the waterproof padding that protected the outside of the shop.

Morning always brought with it a sense of beauty and tranquility; Sakura reveled in it, but it never seemed to last too long.

She heard Kakashi suck in a large mouthful of broth and instantly turned, but his mask was pulled back up before she could even register he was done..

"Thank you," she said as a plate with two boiled eggs was placed in front of her. It wasn't much, but she was never  _that_  hungry when she woke up. She just needed something to feed her chakra levels for the next couple of hours.

"Are you going out?" Kakashi asked.

"Hm?" She followed his gaze south towards her outfit which consisted of a lengthy red qipao top, reminiscent of traditional chinese cocktail dresses, that extended past her hips in the back and exposed her navel in the front. Underneath she wore light colored pants with black heeled sandals, and for an extra touch, she had even added a red ribbon to her hair. It definitely stood in stark contrast to the powder white med coat she usually wore to work, but houses were less clinical in nature than hospitals were. She thought she'd easily be able to get out of wearing it, if just this once.

"Oh, no," she said quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "I just have a house call in thirty minutes." She glanced at her watch, turning her attention back to her eggs as Kakashi's shoulders visibly relaxed.

He took in small a breath and released it. "Thank Kami. I don't think I can handle another birthday party this month."

Sakura laughed. She must have worn the same outfit to Ino's birthday party last week... "It's September! Of course there are a lot of birthdays."

"Don't say that," he murmured as if he were superstitious, lifting the bowl back up to his face and finishing off the remainder of the salty broth.

"Pfft," she let out a snort of amusement from the back of her throat. She never thought she'd say this, but she almost liked the exhausted version of Kakashi better than the normal one—he was funnier without a filter, especially since he was now a walking figurehead.. Forever the Rokudaime—the one person in the entire village meant to be an image of perfection, and boy was he was far from it.

"Naruto will save you soon," she said with a small smile, the last frays of their conversation easing into a comfortable silence.

The dewy film of mist from this morning had dissipated by this time, but the remnants of last night's rain shower had spread itself over the village. Pooled in gutters. Dripping down the sides of buildings... Sakura wondered if the storm had reached both of her partners equally. And if so, had they taken shelter fast enough to avoid it? As much as she would like to deny the fact that she worried about these things; even still towards Sasuke, if she were to do so, she would be lying.

She'd heard from Tsunade that Naruto was making another trip to visit all five kages. It was meant to be his final trip around the continent before he stationed himself permanently in the Hokage's office, drowned in the monotony of government and politics—official memos, declarations and treaties, trade deals, and correspondences. After all, it had been a long time since Konoha saw such long-standing peace, and he was encouraged to take advantage of it while he still could.

"Ne, Kakashi-sensei."

"Mm?"

"Have you heard anything from him?" she mumbled. "If anyone should know, it's you."

As if he were reaching for a memory, his gaze traveled wordlessly up and across the line of cooking utensils dangling from the ceiling rack. A moment passed in relative silence before he blinked, redirecting his attention to the refrigerator in the back.

"Who knows? He said he'd only be gone for six months, but assuming he walks, it takes two months alone to get to Kumogakure from here."

"He could be riding with some of the merchants, I guess..." She let the idea linger for a bit but eventually just sighed. "You're right. He never plans these sort of things out rationally beforehand.."

He scratched at his head. "I asked Yamato to go with him, and he agreed. I don't know why he suddenly decided to change his mind.."

"I would've gone with him," she said. "I offered, but he just kept dodging the subject. He wouldn't tell me when he was leaving."

Kakashi looked at her. She was picking at her food like a schoolgirl, which wasn't  _completely_  uncharacteristic of her, he supposed.

"Don't let it bother you, Sakura." She heard a faint rustling from where he was sitting, only to find that he'd stood from his chair and was in the process of fitting the wide hokage visor back onto his head, something his spiky hair didn't really take to. "He can handle himself now," he said. "He and Sasuke both have proved themselves capable enough, don't you think?"

.

.

.

_"I guess so.."_

The words ghosted around in her head for most of the time it took to walk from Ichiraku to the opposite side of town where the Uchiha estates were located. She thought she'd lost it at first, but the paper Tsunade had given her with the address on it ended up being in her pocket all along. She'd dug in it for several minutes as she walked and found nothing at first, but who would have thought! She just needed to turn her pockets out and look for a fifteenth time for it to finally reappear...

" _Really_?" she drew the word out extensively as she smoothed the paper out in her hands.

The gate to the compound was only a few yards away, but she didn't want to go in until she at least knew the address and made sure she had all of her supplies ready to go. If she was lucky, there would be nothing there for anyone to criticize except maybe her natural personality, but she could tone that down for a few hours, surely.

"You have  _got_  to be kidding me..."

The building staring at her was 100 percent, without a doubt in her mind, Sasuke's house.

So much for hoping that Itachi lived on his own by now. With two doors and a divided front porch, it looked as if it could be a duplex of some kind, but there was no telling who all lived here. The only two things she knew for sure were that 1. This was where Sasuke lived. and 2. If  _that woman_  was here... she was scheduled to have a very bad day. A very bad day, indeed.

She sighed quietly, drawing her frustrated gaze up from the paper as if the look of the building alone was enough to drain every ounce of energy she'd gained from this morning's breakfast. Either way she saw it she was going to have to knock on one of the doors, but only one of them was the right one—could that mean she was supposed to pick the door on the right?

_Now she was reading too far into it..._

"Whatever," she mumbled as her inner child flared, erupting with a mixture of anger and impatience that carried her in a series of stubborn steps straight towards the door on the far right.

She raised her fist, pausing to listen for sounds—there were none of course—and knocked three times.

The seconds passed by soundlessly, save for the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze and the chaotic pounding of her pulse in her ears. It felt like the longest ten seconds of her life, but she eventually caught the light creaking sound of footsteps growing steadily closer to the door. The bottom lock was loosened first, followed by the thick bolt at the top, and when the door finally opened, she couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief at the sight of him.

"Uchiha Itachi," she tipped her head formally. Tsunade's crumpled directive was clutched in both of her hands as if she were clinging to it for purpose. "I'm not sure if you remember me from the medic corps. I'm Haruno Sakura."

The last time she'd seen him he had been dressed in his ANBU uniform, the steel plates on the outside of his arms and torso hiding the shape of his frame, which turned out to be less imposing than the details her foggy memory had originally led her to believe. His hair was longer now as well, pulled into a characteristic low ponytail behind his shoulders. He wore a simple navy t-shirt with a low collar—if Sakura had to guess, it probably had the Uchiha crest on the back—and a pair of dark shorts to match.

If these were the only details she had to build from, she wouldn't have thought he was sick at all, but once she allowed herself to take in the full depth of his features, she felt herself slipping into a pitch black pit of loneliness and exhaustion. And it wasn't a genjutsu, she was sure.

"I remember you," he confirmed with a nod. If she had to guess, it was probably because she was Sasuke's teammate. "What can I do for you?"

She looked at him dumbly for a few seconds, the ends of her brows narrowing. "Uh," she said. The paper was still in clutched her hands, forgotten. "I'm here to heal you, I thought..."

Itachi's expression was unreadable, but there was no malice in it. In fact, he looked exactly like what he was: an older, more docile version of Sasuke. There was even the slightest glint of curiosity present in his eyes as his gaze lifted, skimming over the bright red bow in her hair, but it was long gone by the time she was able to get a good look at him again.

"I—don't remember calling the clinic." He seemed to be a little lost for words, as did she. It felt like the air between them had turned to lead, heavy with an invisible magnetism that both pushed and pulled at the same time.

He was definitely hiding something. Was it about his eyes?

"—Oh! Tsunade-sama sent me, actually," she said, eager to fix the misunderstanding. It made her feel a little bit weird to hand over the crumpled orders, given the state of its appearance, but she didn't have much choice in the matter. Shinobi are trained not to reveal anything without proof, and something told her that Itachi still made his own decisions regardless. She wasn't going to get anywhere with him today, she just knew it.

"Apparently your father requested one of my coworkers, but I seem to be the only one qualified enough to help you with your eyes."

There it was. That painfully familiar tick of annoyance at his brow that had been mirrored to her by Sasuke for so many years. It was faint, but not invisible; she almost let it slide..

"What is it?" she asked.

He glanced at her over the top of the note, his features softened again, almost as if she hadn't seen anything. He could play it off as nothing if he really wanted to, but he didn't. His brows curved inward, lips lengthening into a half smirk. It was obvious he was amused. If only they were closer, perhaps she could've gotten her forehead poked.

"You're very perceptive, Haruno Sakura," he said, handing her back the note. "-But I don't need your help."

Before she realized what he was doing, he had turned to close the door. "I will send a message to the Godaime. Take the rest of the day off-"

"Wait!" she shouted, thrusting herself inside the doorway. "Are you saying there's nothing wrong then?"

He looked puzzled by her actions, but he answered her regardless, keeping his hand safely on the doorknob in case he needed to shove her out. "I didn't say that. I said I didn't need your help."

"If you didn't need my help, you wouldn't still be sick!" She didn't know why she was suddenly so enraged. Maybe it was all of her pent up feelings being released at one time. She was like a human power vacuum, constantly sucking in more and more pressure until whatever bubble she happened to be floating in finally burst, exploding all the ugly contents of her anxieties onto whatever unsuspecting victim happened to be around.

Or maybe he was just being a prick.

Something told her it was a mixture of the two.

He responded with a look of deep irritation, indicating he was starting to lose patience.

"It's incurable," he said, his tone like a heavy weight ready to drag her under the surface. "Whatever you claim to know, I already know. Whatever you claim to be able to do, I've already done, or had done."

Sakura couldn't take her eyes off him. She felt sandbagged in place by a whirlwind of emotion. Despite having come here with relatively high hopes, his words didn't sit well with her. They felt icky and cancerous, and they stuck right into her heart.

"Then why won't you at least let me try? Isn't it always worth trying?"

He sighed. Not out of annoyance this time but more out of exhaustion. "Not always."

There's no telling how long this had been bothering him, or what his journey had looked like since he was forced to quit ANBU. Even now, she wasn't sure how much detail he could actually see; whether he could tell the difference between the shapes of the clouds or even what her face looked like right now. She was sure that from a stranger's point of view, she must look pretty pathetic.

Every experience she'd ever had with terminal illness had been traumatizing for her, so she wasn't even fully sure why she was trying to hard to make him let her into what she could only assume was a world of physical and emotional pain the likes of which were way beyond her understanding. Something screamed to her that she was much too sensitive of a person for this, but even still... she wanted to help in some way. It was the only thing she was ever really good at.

Without thinking, Itachi had been resting more and more of his weight on the doorknob. Sakura thought she heard another barely audible sigh as he released his hold on it and began retreating back into his house.

"H-Hold on!" she shouted.

"Just come in," he replied tonelessly. "And shut the door behind you."


	3. Dead Weight

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, 'ttebayo!**

**A/N:** I envisioned Itachi to be living side by side with Sasuke who happens to be gone right now (in sort of a duplex, I think I did mention that). So, Mikoto and Fugaku are just kickin it on their own at the moment. I'll expand on the reason why later, but I wanted to make that clear to avoid confusion.

* * *

"Haruno-san,"

His voice emerged, a faint echo, from behind the dividing curtain that led into the kitchen.

"You can call me Sakura," she said candidly, preoccupied with the decorative pieces he had on display in the living room.

She had no idea there were so many ways to recreate the Uchiha crest. Years of staring at the paper fan shaped logo on Sasuke's back had conditioned her to see right through it, but this watercolor style of painting seemed to breathe new life into it, splotches of red and white just barely forming the outline of its natural shape against a dark, navy canvas speckled with stars. There were a few other pieces as well, mostly portraits of rural landscapes and the insides of tea houses. There was also a big one above the fireplace she was embarrassed to have missed, a magnified view of a crow's eye that was oddly captivating.

"-Sakura," he felt him hesitate, breaking her concentration. He must have decided it was alright to drop the honorific. "Do you drink tea?"

She thought it was slightly weird, talking to him through the dividing curtain, but she felt glued to the main room. It was probably impolite to go nosying around.

"Uh.. yeah," she said.

The tension was still there, hovering in their exchanges. It was putting the normal, chirpy, outgoing version of herself to shame, but she couldn't help but recede into silence as she started to rethink the impulsivity of her decision to push herself on him; even if this was an assignment, she felt like she was intruding. Plus, it was common knowledge that patients always had the right to refuse care. Unless of course, they were a direct threat to themselves or others, but Itachi wasn't that. There was also the added pressure of finding something to talk about with him, which she had made out in her head to be the hardest part of this whole situation.

Still, she wanted to be cordial with him. It was the only way they would both be able to get through the rest of the day without losing their minds.

"What flavors do you have?" she asked.

No response.

Her gaze gently leveled, fixing on the small indoor plant sitting on the side table.

Even for Uchiha standards, the house looked immaculate. In villages like Konoha with high shinobi populations, this wasn't uncommon - most houses stayed empty and clean as long as the owner wasn't there long enough to make a mess - but it was different with Itachi. He actually lived here, spent most of his time here, but it didn't look like that at all. This might have been one of her darker thoughts, but she couldn't help but think that it was because he didn't have much else to do except eat, sleep, breathe, and clean up after himself. At least he still saw a purpose in taking care of those things.. That was a good sign!

Dull movements echoed through the back of the pantry as he shifted the products around. When he came back out, he was holding a hard plastic tray filled with several tins of loose leaf tea and a pair of porcelain cups.

"Most of these are herbal teas," he said as he knelt and placed it on the table. "Pick whichever you like."

He sounded rather indifferent to it, giving her the sinking feeling that they must not have worked as a treatment for him. "Which one do you recommend?" she asked, simply out of curiosity, as she leaned down to skim the labels.

Itachi's dark eyes fell on her as he took a seat, following her facial expressions. Unlike him, Sakura was a very expressive person, and there was a genuine lightness about her that the various wars had failed to corrupt.. Though he was an expert at masking it, the Third Shinobi World War affected him deeply as a child - while he carried the same feelings and emotions as any normal person, the trauma he experienced at the time had taken some of the most vulnerable parts of him and locked them inside an impenetrable shell. Even now at twenty-three years old, he found it hard to let go of certain things. He wouldn't even begin to know how to share or express himself in the same way that others did.

"I like the taste of jasmine tea," he said.

Sakura lifted her gaze, her interest piqued. "What?! Really?! I thought you'd be more of a black tea type of guy." She left out the part about how she thought it reflected his personality…

"I dislike the bitterness," he admitted, surprising her with the hint of a smile. Sakura made a small 'o' with her mouth as she straightened her back and tucked the left side if her hair out of her face. Her eyes seemed to reach through him as a mental picture of Sasuke eyeing a freshly ripened tomato forced its way into her mind.

"You actually like sweet things?" she asked.

He nodded, pretty sure of the direction her thoughts had gone. "Sasuke and I are different in that regard."

Her eyes widened a bit at that, but she looked away quickly. As much as she wanted answers about him, she probably wasn't in the right place to talk about Sasuke. The mere mention of his name was enough to dampen her mood, so she pretended like she didn't hear him at all, grabbing one of the tins and turning it in her hands to read through the list of ingredients on the back.

This didn't go unnoticed by him, of course, but he decided not to push the topic. If she still had feelings for Sasuke, the only rational thing to do would be to abandon them. It was probably easier said than done, but his little brother was no longer a bachelor. He was off limits, for good this time.

"I think i'll try the jasmine tea then!" she exclaimed, the smile on her face perhaps a bit too exaggerated to hide that something was bothering her.

Itachi cocked an inquisitive brow, taking a moment to follow the length of her arm to the container she was holding in mid-air. He started to reach for it, but it was promptly seized as she jumped to her feet.

"Wait!" she held it close to her chest. "Let me make it for us! You're the patient, right?"

He blinked up at the towering figure glaring determinedly at him, taking in the pastel hue of her emerald eyes and the soft pink locks that framed her face, lightly rustled from yet another outburst. Apart from her looks, she reminded him of the visits he received every now and then from his mother who often tunneled him with the same expression whenever she insisted on making him meals or doing his laundry.

He couldn't resist a chuckle at the similarity. "By all means," he said.

Sakura came even more alive at that. It was as if she'd flipped a switch on her back and activated medic mode, which was in all probability her natural state. "Okay!" she said. "I'll be right back then. Just take it easy for a while, and we can get started on your eyes."

He nodded silently, removing his gaze (something seemed to be left unsaid) as she gathered the tray in her arms and started off towards the kitchen. "Don't move, okay?" she said as she disappeared through the curtain, her voice melting into an echo from the distance. "Just relax for a bit!"

His eyes took a quick scan of the room as he leaned his head back against the wall, sinking quietly into the background as the sound of her fumbling around with the kitchen utensils closed in around him like a distant memory.

If he really concentrated, he could hear the sound of his own blood crashing through his ears, the tension in his head increasing with every beat. While the migraines could be kept at bay with enough drugs, his overuse of the mangekyou sharingan during the Fourth Shinobi World War had destroyed parts of his vision that he was afraid he'd never get back. He didn't know what to make of most of the treatment ideas; He tried his best at trial and error, but most of what was recommended to him by his father and the Uchiha clan heads yielded little to no results, forcing him to adjust to a completely foreign way of life. While his regular sharingan still worked, the smallest bit of strain on his weakened eyes could make them burn like he had dipped them in chemicals. His dojutsu had become of less use to him anyway since the chakra signatures provided by the sharingan blurred too much together to make the pain of using it worthwhile. For the most part he would only think to use it for genjutsu, but he wasn't even sure that he'd ever see combat again, so what did it matter?

In a way, losing it felt like losing his part of his identity. It was as if he'd had them stolen except worse - they were still his, but they were going to waste. Sparring for him was inconsistent with such a heavy reliance on genjutsu, and as his vision continued to deteriorate, even menial activities that he enjoyed like target practice began to lose most of its charm since he could no longer manage to keep up with Shisui without being spoon-fed out of pity.

He took in a shallow breath but was forced to release it and take in another to relieve the sensation of being suffocated by his own weight.

The human mind has its own methods of comprehending illness. In Itachi's case usefulness meant far more to him than natural talent, but in the span of a year, he'd lost both of those things at the same time. It seemed the more he clung to training, and by extension the Uchiha name, the more he suffered, but the more he suffered, the more his family suffered at his expense. It was all a devastating cycle that ended on a rainy winter night in the forest near the Uchiha compound when he pushed himself to a breaking point he never thought existed. Drenched and shivering, he continued until dawn before passing out in the mud, palms caked with a mixture of dirt and oxidized blood from a second unforseen illness that he had managed to exacerbate in the process.

After that, not a day passed by without the feeling of total exhaustion nipping away at his physical and emotional health. Where he needed answers, there were none to be found. The only thing he had left to rely on now was his own willpower, and even that was becoming hard to maintain as he struggled to get through the passing days as little more than a piece of dead weight hidden in his father's back pocket.

His eyes fluttered open and then closed again as he took another shaky breath in. After Sakura left, he was going to need a nap.

.

.

.

_Don't tell me_ , she thought, anxiously moving the contents around on the tray. She lifted each tin one by one and placed both teacups on a different spot on the counter, hoping she'd just missed the infuser underneath something else.

For the second time today, she deadpanned:  _You have got to be kidding…_

The kettle sat nice and hot on the burner, wafts of steam rising from the top indicating that the water was done boiling. She had managed to measure out the leaves as well, but she needed an infuser to put it all together. While she was no expert at it, that's at least how she was taught to make tea by her mother some years ago.

Maybe she should have let him do it after all…

She sighed quietly, letting her eyes search the room for clues as to where he would keep something like an infuser. She opened all of the cabinets above the stove, finding nothing but dry food. Then, she moved to the cabinets above the sink. There was little more than dishes in the first three, but in the last cabinet she was surprised to find a mountain of medicine bottles, all of them more than half full with pills of all sizes, shapes, and colors.

How much medicine did this man take? Or…  _not take_ …?

She quickly closed the cabinet door, moving back to the stove area to look in the silverware drawers. After digging through all of the pull out drawers, she finally managed to find two infusers. They looked different, but she was sure that it wouldn't affect the taste in any way.

The warm teacups gently clinked as she carried them out on the same hard plastic tray to the main room where she sat them down on the table next to a still and sleeping Itachi.

For at least a few seconds Sakura couldn't take her eyes off of him, but as she moved to his side and sat down on her knees to take his pulse, she noticed that his chakra signature was still active.

She paused, his body heat radiating under her palms. "Itachi-san," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Can I check a few things on your body?"

As if he were coming out of hiding, he tilted his head to look at her.

"I just need to do a quick assessment first, and then we can get started."

He was nice and warm, she noted, as she placed a chakra-coated hand against his chest to feel his heartbeat.

"I sometimes have palpitations," he said. She only nodded, sharpening her focus on the pattern of beats lightly touching her hand. The rhythm was regular and even, but there was an added beat hidden in there every fifteen seconds or so, which was slightly worrying.

She took the rest of his pulses, making sure they were of even strength on both sides of his body. Then after she checked the sound of his lungs with her stethoscope and took a brief look into his eyes, she put her tools away and reached for one of the tea cups.

"Here," she said. "Drink a little bit of this."

.

.

.

Thirty minutes later her tea still sat cold and untouched on the edge of the tray as she continued to press her chakra into both of Itachi's temples.

"Sorry this is taking so long. I wanted to infuse some of my chakra inside of you so I can see what's going on, but - your body's rejecting it."

There was a curious glint in his eyes as he glanced up at her. The red stain of her cheeks told him she'd been silently straining in an effort to break through his body's natural defenses, the likes of which he had little to no control over. The Uchiha were simply built with innate protections when it came to their kekkai genkai; yes, his vision was impaired, but not his mind. He was known for being mentally unbreakable for a reason.

"I don't believe you're going to get through anytime soon," he mentioned.

She ignored him, her delicate features locked in a state of rigid concentration. For some reason it made him want to watch her more, but he resisted the urge after a few seconds and looked away, a somewhat perturbed look on his face.

" _Ssss_ -!" he hissed, grabbing her forearm and yanking it away. It felt like she'd stabbed him in the temple with a needle and injected it with fluid.

"That's just my chakra.." she released a heavy breath, exasperated, as her arm fell limp in his grasp. "Finally!"

They exchanged looks, tiny beads of sweat trickling down Sakura's neck as she attempted a smile. "I feel... a little dizzy," she murmured, breathing heavily as she placed a hand on the table for leverage. "Let me just - get some fresh -"

As if it were in slow motion, the tea cup tipped over on its side, spilling the dark liquid all over the table as Sakura's head rolled back, pure dead weight, taking the rest of her body with her as she fell backwards to the ground.


	4. Bittersweet Dreams

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto!**

**A/N:**  it is turning out to be very slow, unfortunately. D: oof.

¹Kocchi - "This way!" or "Over here!"

* * *

It took Itachi over thirty minutes to scrub the dark brown tea stain from the tatami flooring. The rice straw at its core had a tendency to grow moldy and soak in unpleasant odors if not properly cleaned, so he usually took his time with the vinegar solution, going over the spot three, sometimes even four times, just to be safe. The whole process of spraying, scrubbing, drying, and repeating was a lengthy one that might have annoyed him if he wasn't already so restless from inactivity, but he actually found it to be quite soothing. Menial activities like cooking, dusting, and folding laundry were things he could do to pass the time productively, but he still wasn't entirely acclimated to being so idle and bored all the time. Luckily, he didn't have much of a problem when it came to patience and self-control or he might have gone stir-crazy a long time ago. The only thing he did succumb to every now and then was his hovering tendencies. The more he ran out of things to do, the more irritating the urges were to check and clean, so for Sakura's privacy he made a conscious effort to avoid the bedroom and keep himself as busy as possible around the house until she woke up.

When he did eventually succumb to checking on her, it was three and a half hours later, and it was because he figured it wise to perform a quick check-up just in case her condition did ever start to deteriorate. While he was by no means a medic, there were still aspects of medical ninjutsu that he managed to retain from missions and personal experience. One of those things included the practice of establishing a baseline level of health. If she was doing fine now - simple chakra exhaustion produces little to no symptoms except for dizziness and fatigue - then he would know exactly where to start if she happened to take a turn for the worst. He didn't think to do it earlier, but she'd been asleep for an unusually long time for someone with such large chakra reserves. He paused at the door, hesitant to open it in case she was awake and somehow indecent, but there was no sound coming from inside, so he popped it open slowly and allowed his eyes to settle on her sleeping form before entering.

She'd curled up into a ball in the same spot he'd placed her when she fell (it was by sheer luck alone that he managed to catch her in time), swirls of short pink hair fanned out over his pillow in messy tendrils. He tilted his head curiously at the way her hands formed fists in her sleep as it seemed to match her personality almost too perfectly. If there were any superficial indications that she was getting any worse, he couldn't see them. Coal eyes traced over the white circle printed on the back of her top, slinking discretely over her chest to observe her respiratory pattern before quickly moving away.

Nothing odd there either.

He closed his eyes, a slight scowl beginning to form at his brows in frustration. He hadn't looked at her for much longer than a second, and yet he felt odd. Mentally and physically… In the back of his head where his headache usually was, her chakra was floating around in an airy pocket, growing more and more active the closer in proximity he was to her. Though it did seem to relieve some of the pressure in his head and behind his eyes which he was grateful for, the warming lightness of it felt as foreign to him as she had standing awkwardly at his door. And now, tangled in his sheets… If he were to be honest with himself, he wasn't prepared for her at all. Yet despite his hesitance and mistrust of strangers, he'd still allowed her do whatever she wanted with him in his own house.

_Why?_

It used to be his favorite question as a child not long before the war thrust him into the life of a shinobi, its horrors shredding at his innocence as early as age five.

Why are we having steak for dinner? Why am I having a little brother? Why do I have to join the academy?

_Father, what have I done?_

_Why did that man try to kill me?_

_Why am I still alive?_

He took a steady breath, dispelling the negative thoughts from his mind as he opened his eyes, trailing them over her porcelain skin. The last thing he wanted to check was her temperature and chakra levels. Placing a hand on her forehead, he closed his eyes again and attempted to push his own energy through her. Without the sharingan, he couldn't read the movement of her chakra, but he could get a general feel of her level of exhaustion if he focused well enough.

Her forehead felt warm to the touch, but the temperature of it was the same as the rest of her skin, so he didn't take that to be particularly abnormal. He flipped his palm over, feeling her again with the back of his hand when she started to stir.

"Sasuke-kun.." she murmured, brows flexing in a scowl, fists twitching against the bedsheets.

His eyes widened, coal eyes flicking back over her face in a mix of curiosity and wonder as a few strands of pink hair fell against his hand. Whatever dream she was having, it was causing her chakra and energy levels to quiver erratically, spiking and dipping in opposing extremes. He suspected that it had something to do with the reason why she was taking so long to recover, but there wasn't much he could do about it except wake her up.

She grunted as if she were in pain, scowl deepening as she curled her body tighter against the mattress.

Sasuke's face somehow made it's way into the forefront of his mind as well as he combed his fingers through her scalp absent-mindedly, fixing the stray hairs back in place. To his surprise (and amusement, he'll admit), she seemed to relax in response to the gesture, so he tried it a second time, tucking the curtain of hair laying over her cheek back behind her ear to expose her neck.

Regardless of how different they were, they probably had a lot in common in regards to their shared feelings for Sasuke. It appeared as if Sakura loved him a lot more than she let on, which didn't differ all that much from him. Growing up, and even now, the only way Itachi really knew how to express himself to his brother was through gestures. In his ANBU days it was taking the time to train him, chaperoning for him when he wanted to go on extra missions, and of course, poking his forehead. Despite his inherent distaste for war, he even managed to enjoy himself fighting alongside Sasuke in the fourth ninja world war, but nowadays he spent most of his time away from the village, travelling the world and exploring. Too far away to have dinner with or have long talks with atop the sixth hokage's head as the sun set over them, but far enough away to entrust him with the safety of his pregnant fiancee living nextdoor. It was a challenge sometimes to keep up with her needs, but she was a nice girl and being the only man around, he tried his best to give as much as he could when Sasuke couldn't.

His eyes softened as Sakura's face sank into total relaxation, hopefully escaping into a dream that wasn't so painful.

The problem was, he felt for her. On a level that would be impossible for him to express, it bothered him to some degree to see that she'd been heartbroken by Sasuke's decision to move forward with someone else. As his former teammate, there was no telling how attached she'd grown to him over the years. Even though it wasn't smart, he couldn't blame her. Anyone with feelings that deep would have problems letting go, including him.

His gaze lingered on her thick eyelashes, trailing down her cheek to the base of her neck, deep in thought. He left the room more troubled than he had come, the warmth of her chakra still tickling him internally, fading incrementally with enough distance. For the second time so far today, he took another concoction of pills to keep himself running and collapsed onto the couch, finding his own slumber.

.

.

.

**Konoha. 1 year earlier. (1 year post-war).**

"Naruto-kun!"

" _Sakura-chan! Kocchi, Kocchi_ ¹!"

The autumn wind swept across the newly rebuilt Ichiraku stand, wafting through ends of her short hair as she ground to a stop in the middle of the dirt street. Standing there under the shiny new awning flaps, dressed in his vivid black and orange uniform, was the familiar warm-hearted, cheesy-whiskered grin of the future nanadaime. The sight of him waving there stretched forth a feeling she couldn't quite place, but she ran and clobbered him in a hug before the sting of cold tears managed to reach her eyes.

"Where were you?!" she shouted into the fabric of his jacket. "I didn't know where to send my letters!"

Before he could still himself from the force of the hug, he paled, stabbed through the forehead by an imaginary arrow as a look of exasperation came over his face.

"Eheh, about that Sakura-chan-" he said, resorting to his usual default grin as he scratched at the back of his head. If only he were more accustomed to being on the receiving end of physical affection from her - affection that didn't involve being pummeled into the ground…

_Please don't kill me, Sakura-chan!_

"I didn't think I'd be gone  _that_  long, ya see," he explained.

_'Liar,'_  Kurama's voice rumbled against the back of his skull, offset by the ever-present grin that was starting to exhaust his cheek muscles.

Sakura couldn't help but blink at him in obvious distrust. The grown man standing before her may be set to become the next hokage, but he was still the same Naruto at heart - maybe a bit less energetic, but still just as stubborn, careless, and impulsive as she knew him to be when they were pre-teens.

"You went to see Gaara again, didn't you?"

He pinched his eyes and lips together in a stiff nod that told her everything she needed to know.

"Thought so," she laughed. Glancing down at her feet, she noticed the strap of her sandal was loose and bent down to fix it. "Well, how was it?"

His eyes were focused curiously on her, but as he folded his arms behind his head, they rolled up towards the sky as if he were searching through his memories. He couldn't help but wonder what she'd been doing as well, but he decided not to go there. Sakura was always overprotective of her true feelings, and something told him she'd only feed him a bunch of half-truths that he wasn't allowed to elaborate on without causing a fight.

"It was just like last time," he shrugged. "There's not much else to do with the Kazekage other than tour the city and sign paperwork."

Though it was easy for him to make light of his experiences, hidden in his tone was a certain warmth that seemed to always be there when he spoke about Gaara. Not much had been able to hinder their friendship over the past few years, especially once it was decided that Naruto was to inherit the hokage seat. After that, it became much harder to keep him away from the Land of Wind where he could live in Gaara's shadow under the excuse of "learning how to hokage" without Tsunade, and to a lesser degree Kakashi, breathing down his neck in Konoha.

"Eh?" Sakura tilted her head. "Then why are you back so soon?"

He seemed preoccupied with the sky, but almost as soon as she said that, he shot her a look of worried confusion from the other side of his elbow.

"Waddaya mean, Sakura-chan?" he muttered. His arms dropped, and he looked at her seriously. "Are you joking around again?"

She hopped in place, surprised, the tails of her pink hair fanning out against the curve of her neck as she wagged her palms at him. "N-No!" she sputtered nervously. "I mean, not that you should leave! That's not what I-"

It was her turn now to scramble for an answer - he was squinting at her suspiciously, trying to read her - but she was promptly cut off by the shifting gravel under his sandals as he took a step towards her. They locked eyes, and she slowly lowered her arms, unable to look away or say anything as she tried over the next few seconds to piece together the reason why he was staring through her so intensely.

She tried to speak, but she found herself at a loss for words, which he seemed to pick up on. What was happening here?

"N-Naruto-" she stammered.

His eyes leveled from her gently. A second gust of wind sped past them as his hands found their way into his pockets; neither of them seemed to be able to speak.

"Don't tell me, Sakura-chan," he finally said. "If he changed his mind again, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

Everything in her stilled, mirroring his posture as the tips of her fingers floated up to press against her lips in attempts to hide her slack jaw since she'd lost the energy to close it herself. Before she knew it, she was shaking.

_If he changed his mind? If who…?_

"I don't understand," she lied, features pressing gently into a scowl, resting her gaze on the same cluster of gravel rocks he was looking at. He was starting to space out, and the blood was beginning to rush to her head faster than she could stop it.

"Naruto!" she shouted. "What is going on?!"

Maybe she could fool her mind into thinking she didn't know what he was talking about, but the way her upper body trembled, threatening to release the tears welling up in her eyes spoke volumes to Naruto who, despite his dull moments, always seemed to be able to read between the lines.

"Sakura-chan!" He found his own eyes widening in shock at the sight of her. He quickly closed the gap between them, rushing to gather her in a big bear hug, but she cut him off. "I thought you knew," he stammered, clearly just as surprised as she was. "It's just - you sounded like - I thought they told you not to tell me!"

"Tell you what?!" she shouted. It was too late to stop the tears. She didn't even bother wiping them as they started pouring down her cheeks.

She already knew what he was going to say, but she needed to hear him say it.

Naruto closed his mouth, eyes still wide open in shock as realization slowly washed over him, wiping the relief from his face and replacing it with an unreadable expression - something like worry mixed with hesitation. Sakura obviously didn't know that Sasuke was on his way back; If he was going to be the one to tell her that, he was also going to be the one to have to break the bad news.

He didn't want to do that.

He really,  _really_ , didn't want to do that.

His right arm lifted, reaching back to scratch at his head, brows scrunching together nervously as he grasped for the most gentle way of going about it. There was a reason why he was never tasked with things like this. It was because he sucked at it, and he always ended up getting beat up as a result.

"Uh, S-Sakura-chan," he mumbled, voice lowering to a near whisper. "-Promise you won't hit me."

By now, her eyes were pleading. She'd definitely picked up on the fact that something was wrong. There was something else she didn't know. Whatever it was, she almost didn't  _want_  to know.

He held off for an answer as long as he could, hoping to draw the moment out in case Kakashi were to somehow jump out and rescue him, but that clearly wasn't going to happen.

A few moments passed, and he simply sighed. "Sasuke's on his way back," he said, predicting the way her eyes would light up, which is exactly what happened.

Now, she was going to break into a million tiny pieces.

"He's on his way back," he mumbled. "- with his fiancee."

.

.

.

**Konoha. Present Time. (2 years post-war).**

Sakura winced as the pads of her feet came into contact with the cold floor. When she woke up, she found herself nestled inbetween two layers, a sheet and a duvet, with a soft mattress pressed comfortably against her back. Each layer together had helped to create a vacuum of warmth around her body that made venturing outside colder and more uncomfortable than she remembered before, but she powered through it, holding her arms to her chest protectively as she slid from the bed and took a quick look around.

There was nothing inherently special about the room itself aside from the roasted chestnut color of the matching furniture pieces. The head and baseboards of the bed matched both drawers and the closet door as well. Apart from that, it was like any other ordinary bedroom that she wouldn't want to mess up. She made sure to make the bed back up before she left, even if it likely wasn't up to Itachi's wrinkleless standards. She hadn't seen what it looked like before she woke up in it, so she didn't know.

A pretend arrow suddenly flew into her forehead, knocking her back in instant, cold realization.

_He carried her back there. After she fell._

She gasped, jade eyes widening in mortification.  _She'd spilled tea all over his nice floors, didn't she?_  Forgetting all about the cold, she hurried down the hall into the main room where she remembered dropping the tea.

Nothing.

The mortification only worsened when she noticed the cleaning supplies were still on the table. She'd made the sick man clean up her mess and then take care of her to the point where he'd passed out from exhaustion. She went pale at the sight of him stretched out on the couch, only barely fitting his entire body on it without having to break his neck to get comfortable.

And now she'd woken him up in the process of freaking out. Though he looked as if he were still sleeping, she could tell he wasn't by the sudden flare of his chakra signature.

She hung her head dramatically. "I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible medic."

He glanced at her then, eyes darkened and half-lidded from sleep. "You pushed yourself too hard," he said, covertly disagreeing with her previous statement.

It wasn't an observation she needed to be reminded of. She knew exactly what she was doing when she did it. With the hundred seals, she had enough chakra at her disposal to heal an army, but she chose not to activate it for what seemed like such a small task. It was a risk she took that obviously backfired. Now, because of her, half a day's worth of work was turning into a full day's worth. At the rate they were going, she was probably going to have to come back for another session.

"Is my chakra still there at least?"

"Yes," he replied. He left out the part about how responsive it was being right now to her presence, its warmth caressing the back of his head as if it were her own hands.

She visibly relaxed, wiping over her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thank the gods. I didn't want to have to deal with that again."

He simply blinked at her, arms crossed comfortably behind his head. He held back on saying it, but he wouldn't have let her try that again anyway. It was too much for her to handle at one time, and though he had been there for her earlier when she needed him, he no longer considered himself to be someone that others could rely on anymore. Not when he could scarcely take care of himself…

A moment passed by wordlessly as she glanced away. He turned away as well, but he wasn't sure why.

"I meant to say thank you, actually," she said, sucking in her lower lip to bite on it. "So before I forget, thank you. For.. you know."

The grey of his shirt was the only thing in his line of vision as he nodded. Perhaps she wouldn't be as thankful to him if she'd woken up earlier while he was still in the room. If anything, his actions might have infuriated her, so he kept that bit of information to himself as well. He'd made sure she was okay, and that was the only thing that mattered in the end. Right?

He jolted lightly in surprise as she dropped to a sitting position on her knees beside the couch, her face not far away from the arms he had crossed behind his head.

"Now," she said, reaching for him. "Let's get started!"

Reacting by reflex alone, the tomoe of his sharingan began spinning as he moved to catch her wrist in his hand, but the searing pain that followed made him instantly release her and clutch his head in his hands, shielding his eye sockets from the light.

"Itachi-san!" Sakura instantly recoiled, eyes widening in surprise as she rushed to the light switch, smacking it off. His grunts of pain were almost inaudible, but she heard them loud and clear.

"Let me," she urged as she repositioned herself next to him. "please!"

When he neglected to respond she activated her healing chakra and hesitantly pushed his hands away, pressing her palm to his eyes, which seemed to have an immediate, soothing effect. "Why are you fighting me all of a sudden?" she mumbled, trying her best to steady him with her body, but he outweighed her by several pounds.

She wished she hadn't predicted this earlier, as it had to have jinxed her. How many more interruptions could they afford to have in one day?

He wasn't answering her, which she took as an indication of pain, so she settled herself close to him and began connecting her external chakra to the chakra she infused in him earlier. "Just relax," she reminded him as the seconds on the clock behind them continued to tick.

It was going to be a very long day.


End file.
